


Waltzing In Chains

by akamine_chan



Category: Durham County, due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-24
Updated: 2010-06-24
Packaged: 2017-10-15 15:46:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/162383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akamine_chan/pseuds/akamine_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts with a kiss, as so many things with Mike do. A hard kiss, a stinging slap across his face and "Take your clothes off."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waltzing In Chains

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sionnain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sionnain/gifts), [waltzforanight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/waltzforanight/gifts).



> Title stolen from _Hearts, Love And Honour_ by the Headstones. Was threatening to title it _Face Down Ass Up_ after the 2 Live Crew song, but reconsidered. Beautiful beta by Spuffyduds. This story takes place in Sionnain and Waltzforanight's _what else would you have me be_ 'verse. Written for Sionnain's birthday and for Waltzforanight's awesomeness.
> 
> Warning: this story has some pretty heavy kinks, up to and including restraints, domination/submission, masochism, slapping, mirror!sex, orgasm denial, forced orgasm, gagging, dirty talk, rough sex, minor breath play. You've been warned.

It starts with a kiss, as so many things with Mike do. A hard kiss, a stinging slap across his face and "Take your clothes off."

Ray strips, slowly, folds his clothes into a neat little pile on top of his shoes: jeans, tee shirt, underwear, socks. _Slow_ and _neat_ aren't in Ray's vocabulary; he's doing it to piss Mike off.

Mike has an tiny, indulgent smile on his face, which warns Ray that he's going to pay for this small defiance later. Which is fine; Ray likes it when Mike hurts him, usually can't help but try to goad Mike into hurting him. Likes it when Mike fucks him, too, so it's all good.

Ray stands naked in the bedroom, shivering a little in the cool air. He meets Mike's eyes and waits, his dick getting hard.

Another hard slap across his face before Mike growls at him. "Down." Ray drops to his knees without hesitation, glad that the bedroom has nice, fluffy carpeting. He's gotten more than his fair share of rug burns from it, but at least it doesn't hurt as much as the flooring in the kitchen does. Mike walks over to the dresser behind Ray, opens a drawer and Ray feels his breath catch in his throat as Mike pulls out his cuffs, collar and leash, the metal hardware jingling quietly. He swallows hard, mouth dry from his sudden arousal.

He can feel Mike's warmth as he stands behind Ray. Mike is watching him, Ray can feel those eyes almost like a caress on his skin, moving over the vulnerable nape of his neck, following the slope of his shoulder, tracing down his spine and back up. It makes him shiver, but not from the cold this time.

Mike takes his time, draws things out so that Ray's tense with waiting, almost vibrating with _want_. Slowly, he buckles the collar around Ray's neck, just the tiniest bit too tight, sliding his fingers between leather and skin to check, pulling on the collar as a subtle reminder. Mike moves his hand and clips the leash to the front of the collar, letting the chain slide across Ray's shoulder to dangle down his back, links cold against his skin. Mike plays with the chain for a moment, pulling and tugging lightly, dragging the metal across Ray's sensitized skin. Ray shudders, and thinks about how he will be begging in the end, but right now, it's early.

The handle for the leash is in front of his mouth and Mike says, "Open," and Ray hesitates for just a fraction of a second before biting down on the leather loop as it slides between his teeth. Ray doesn't like this, wasn't expecting this at all. He's gagged, but it's not one of Mike's old ties knotted around his head or even a ball-gag like the one's he's thought about buying. With those, he would have no choice in the matter, once the gag is in Ray can't talk. But this? With this, he has to _choose_ to gag himself, to willingly give up his voice and his words.

Silence has never been Ray's friend.

"Hands behind your back." It only takes a minute for Mike to buckle the leather restraints around his wrists, and to link them together with a sturdy double connector. Ray tugs, trying to pull his hands apart, but there's no give. His heart beats faster at the realization that he's trapped; he starts to struggle, fear threatening to swallow him up.

Mike squeezes the back of his neck, and it's like a switch is thrown: Ray relaxes. "Don't move." Mike moves out of Ray's field of vision again, opening the closet and rummaging around. Ray bites the leather handle in his mouth, hard, fighting the urge to turn to see what Mike is doing. He's still a little off-balance and he's worried about what Mike is up to. He hates surprises.

Well, okay, that's not totally true. Mike's surprises tends to _surprise_. Usually Ray starts out unsure and unconvinced, but as time goes on, Mike always manages to change his mind.

Suddenly, Mike's right there, carrying a big...mirror? It's huge; three feet wide and probably five feet tall with a wood frame, one of those full length mirrors. Stella used to have one hanging on the wall behind the bedroom door and every morning she'd check to make sure she looked perfect before heading to work.

Mike leans the mirror against the wall in front of Ray and Ray sees himself reflected back, naked and aroused and wide-eyed. He blushes, ducks his head a little, but he can't look away from the erotic picture he makes. His collar is dark and stands out against his skin, and the chain of the leash glints with every breath he takes. He trembles, and bites harder on the leash handle, using that to try to focus. His breathing is labored, hissing between his teeth and he feels that weird combination of excitement and fear that Mike is so good at making him feel.

"Spread your legs," Mike says from behind him, and he looks up while he tries to obey the clipped command. "No, don't look at me. Look at yourself and spread you legs. Wider." Mike grabs his shoulder and pushes down, forcing Ray to spread his legs even wider, until his thighs ache and burn. It hurts, and the pain twines with his arousal, making his cock even harder. A sheen of sweat blooms on his skin and he looks at himself in the mirror, a blush still heating his cheeks.

"Look at yourself. You're such a fucking slut for me, aren't you?" Mike's voice is rough and the sound of it rubs against Ray's nerves, making him shudder.

Ray nods frantically, still looking into the mirror, the chain on his leash swinging back and forth. He wants Mike to touch him so badly. He needs it. If he could, he'd be begging by now, trying to use his voice to get Mike to do what he wants, touch him, hurt him, fuck him, make him come. He doesn't know how to ask for what he wants without words, and it makes him feel panicky.

He starts to struggle in earnest against the restraints, pulling and tugging, pushing against the hand on his shoulder. His breathing is fast and ragged and the face in the mirror clearly shows his fear.

Before he can slip into a full-blown hysteria, Mike kneels behind him and grabs his collar, slipping his fingers under the leather and cutting off his air. "Ray, stop it."

Ray can't breathe, but for some reason, that calms him down immediately. It's like a curtain has dropped between Ray and his fear, and now that he can't see it, it doesn't bother him any more. He closes his eyes and takes a long, deep breath, and when he opens them again, Mike's watching him in the mirror.

"I love watching you, love watching your face when we fuck, because you can't hide anything." He nods at the mirror. "I want you to see what I see."

Ray meets Mike's eyes in the mirror. He's not sure he can do this. Watching himself in the mirror while Mike watches him will strip him naked. Not his body, which Ray has already given to Mike willingly, but his heart and soul. He's not convinced he's ready to give Mike everything, not so sure he wants to do this. It's a big fucking step, one that can't be undone. It's an _I love you_ that can't be unsaid.

Mike's eyes are usually cold and focused, a steely blue that's forced confessions out of more than one bad cop. Right now, though, in the mirror, they're warm and open. They _see_ Ray. See him for who and what he is, and in spite of that, Mike still wants him.

Ray relaxes, his fears and worries dissolving under that gaze. He leans back against Mike's fully clothed body.

In the mirror, Mike smirks and nuzzles Ray's ear. "Slut," he murmurs, before biting Ray's earlobe. It hurts, and Ray forces himself to watch his face as the pain washes through him, followed by a prickling pleasure. He inhales sharply through his teeth, still biting hard on the leather in his mouth. "Don't come until I tell you to," Mike whispers, moving his hands to Ray's nipples, pinching and pulling them, rolling them between his fingers, "and don't stop watching yourself in the mirror."

Ray pushes his chest against Mike's hands, trying to tell him without words that he wants more, all while staring at himself in the mirror. He looks like a slut, leather strap clenched between his teeth, cock hard and wet and desperate.  
Mike keeps roughly playing with his nipples until they're sore and aching. Ray wants to moan, to hiss out the agony of each touch, but the gag keeps him silent. His eyes give him away, though, wide and dazed, more black than blue.

"After you come," Mike pants, rubbing Ray's belly, dipping his hand down, down, cupping Ray's balls, fondling them distractedly. Seeing Mike's hand and _feeling_ it at the same time gives Ray a weirdly erotic sense of déjà vu. A quiet whimper escapes his throat, but Mike doesn't seem to notice. "I'm going to fuck you in front of this mirror." He rubs his five o'clock shadow across Ray's shoulders, the rasp of stubble stinging his skin.

Ray bites down harder on the leather to keep a moan trapped behind his lips. The gag is the only thing that's keeping him from begging, one long continuous stream of _please_ and _more_ and _harder_ spilling from his mouth. He rocks his hips forward, not sure how far across the line Mike will let him go, but so desperate that he's willing to push the boundaries.

"No." Mike slaps Ray's ass with the flat of his palm, the smack of flesh against flesh loud in the room. Watching himself, Ray sees the blush wash over his face again, and he tries not to squirm in embarrassment. Mike's looking over Ray's shoulder into the mirror while continuing to to play with Ray's cock and balls, stroking and squeezing, teasing Ray by occasionally jacking his dick. Ray is sweating and shaking, wanting so much for Mike to _make_ him come, to own his body and his dick. He wants that, bad, and he thinks Mike knows that.

Mike lets go of Ray's cock, and reaches for something out of Ray's sight, and when he wraps his strong fingers around Ray's cock they're wet and cool and oh, _slick_. Ray's panting, teeth clenched on leather, a soft whine in each breath as Mike starts stroking him perfectly, just the way Ray loves to have his cock jerked. Mike's hand is tight and Ray can't seem to keep his hips from moving and he's watching it all in the mirror, getting more and more turned on by the sight of himself, absolutely begging for it without words, just with the movements of his body and the look in his eyes.

Mike watches Ray in the mirror, and strokes faster, and faster. Ray can feel his orgasm building, right out of his reach, the tension building unbearably, burning through his body. He _needs_ to come, _now now now_ , but he _can't_ , not while he's watching himself in the mirror, it's obscene and he—

Reaching up to his collar, Mike pulls hard on it, cutting off Ray's rasping breath. "Come now," he murmurs, still jerking Ray hard and fast while keeping the collar tight around Ray's throat. Ray gasps and arches his back and comes, fighting to keep his eyes open, to watch in the mirror as it happens, milky white fluid flows over Mike's hand and streaking his own belly. He can't breathe, and even though his eyes are open, he can't see anything, everything's black and sparkly and his heart is pounding so hard in his chest. All he can feel is the electrifying touch of Mike's hand on his cock, still slick and wet, still moving, pulling the shuddering dregs of his orgasm out of his body.

Ray's still shaking, still trying to catch his breath when Mike wraps his fingers around Ray's neck and pushes his head down onto the carpet, keeping him trapped there. Ray fights for a moment, trying to push against Mike's hand, but it's a battle against the post-orgasm lassitude that's threatening to steal over him.

He feels Mike's fingers then, circling his asshole, two fingers pushing in, wide and fast and it hurts, yanks Ray out of his daze. He can't move very much, Mike's taken away any leverage Ray might have had and keeps Ray pinned down no matter how much he struggles, but he can push back a little against Mike's fingers, take them in deeper. Mike pulls back and Ray cries out from behind his impromptu gag.

There's the steady _zzzzzt_ of a zipper and the rustle of clothes, then Mike pushes back in with three slick fingers, hard and fast. He fucks Ray with his fingers for a moment, and then replaces his fingers with his cock, sliding in deep, deeper, until Ray's not sure where he ends and Mike begins. It's too much, too soon, and Ray strains to let Mike in. Mike pulls out, almost all the way, and then glides back in, smooth and sure. He's not asking for permission. He's not giving Ray a choice.

Mike's taking what he wants, and he's filling Ray up, pouring pleasure over and through him until Ray can't stand it, until he's sure he is going to spit out the gag and scream. He tugs on the cuffs, almost moaning under his breath as Mike starts to thrust slowly. There's no give to the cuffs, but Ray finds that he can turn his hands and feel the warmth of Mike's body against his palms, and the occasional brush of flesh and cloth.

"So hot," Mike mutters, "Love fucking you in front of the mirror." Ray can hear Mike panting, can hear ragged words gasped out, Mike's usual self-control shattered into a million pieces. Mike tightens his fingers, squeezing Ray's nape, digging his fingers in. Ray knows there's going to be bruises in the morning, blotchy purple smudges on his skin, curling around the column of his neck.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." Mike pushes in hard and Ray's whole body shudders, almost convulsively. Mike's hitting just the right spot, and Ray feels his cock jutting up from between his thighs, arousal spiraling out of control. He's moaning, face pushed down into the carpet, ass up in the air and if it wasn't the perfect combination of too much pain and too much pleasure he'd be cringing in humiliation. Instead, he just tries to keep breathing.

"Oh, god, Mike, make me come, please, please, oh, fuck, Mike—" Ray bites his lips and groans, suddenly realizing that he's lost the leash handle; maybe it fell out when he gasped, or maybe the words just needed to get _out_ , but right now, it doesn't matter. As long as Mike keeps fucking him like this, deep and fast and hard, muttering curses under his breath, he'll gladly take any punishment Mike cares to dish out.

"Make you pay for that." Mike fucks him so hard that he pushes Ray across the floor a little bit, and Ray cries out, his hands clenching into fists. He can feel his fingernails digging into the skin of his palms, and it's another kind of pain that only adds to his arousal. "Later," Mike amends.

Ray almost laughs at that, but he can't get enough air. He feels breathless and dizzy and faint. Every part of him is over-sensitized; his skin feels hot and prickly, his dick is so hard it hurts and his asshole feels stretched to the limit. He's going to explode, or he's going to die and he's not sure which is better right now.

Mike tightens his fingers on Ray's neck. "Come right now, Ray, or I swear I'll leave you hanging."

Ray's body is very well trained and it listens to _everything_ Mike says. There's no question of obeying, just a pregnant pause before the pleasure crashes into Ray, knocking him over like an errant wave. He cries out, his voice strangled, as his body convulses, twitching like his brain's been short-circuited. Distantly, he feels Mike slam in, shaking as he comes.

Mike suddenly lets go of Ray's neck, sliding his arm around Ray's chest and pulling, helping Ray sit up. He wraps his other arm around Ray and hugs him close, still breathing fast like he's been running down a purse-snatcher. "You're good, Ray, so good. Perfect." Ray leans back, letting Mike take his full weight, unable to hold himself up any longer. He feels totally fucked out and all he wants to do is curl up into a ball and sleep as Mike pets him, soothing him as he comes out of his just-fucked haze.

He opens his eyes slowly, fighting against the drowsiness. The mirror reflects back his image, looking even more debauched than he feels, come splattered, bruised and rug burnt. He's pretty sure that he's got whisker burn and bite marks and probably Mike's hand-print on his ass.

A small, tired smile crosses Ray's face. He's never felt more loved in his life, and that's just greatness.

-fin-


End file.
